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cemeterylaned · 6 months

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chapter six - right where you left me

As per plan, every Saturday or maybe one or two days out of the week, Orlando came over to the Luccetti house - because that’s what Bobby preferred. Every once in a blue moon visit, Del was allowed to visit Orlando’s. Carl and Teddy initially were not fond of Orlando. Del teased him for putting on this spectacle to impress her family, but he insisted that he knew it was faster to build trust with her family by using his ‘white voice’ and acting ‘prim and proper’. They worked on assignments together, studied, or sat and watched TV or a couple episodes of a show with her brothers. And according to this plan, Wayne was given instructions to lie low, and Orlando incorrectly assumed he would comply. Unbeknownst to Orlando, of course.

According to Wayne’s plan, half an hour Orlando left for school, Wayne would take the spare house key and leave. He wore dark clothes and wore a baseball cap and sunglasses - the same thing he had to wear when they went grocery shopping. And he walked. Every day, he walked to Del’s neighborhood and peered and watched. While he could vaguely see Orlando’s vision through a lens that Terrence had to instill in him, that approach to figuring out the Luccetti’s schedule was not working for him. He watched Bobby’s truck return from presumably dropping Del off, and coming home. Another half an hour would pass before him and her brothers got back into the truck. Wayne would find somewhere and genuinely sit for hours, watching. Somedays, the three of them came home early. Some of the days, he would see only Bobby come home and drop Del off. Then leave again, and come back a few hours later.

But every time Wayne saw Del’s figure, he wanted to run to her. He wanted to run to her and hold her and never let go. He was getting too close and tempting fate when he did this. But every time he was around in the neighborhood and Del was getting home, she would look around. Like she was searching for something. Her face was often wistful, as Orlando described to Wayne. He watched from a few houses away - which were most likely condemned by the city of Brockton. She looked tired. He could hear Bobby shouting for her, yelling her full name. He would linger. Orlando would ask him what he was doing, but Wayne justified his outside time by saying he went on walks to calm his anger. Something Terrence tried getting him to do once. It wasn’t really effective. But it wasn’t a complete lie.

So, Orlando’s plan was thus discarded in Wayne’s mind. It was out the window. They’d talk over dinner or lunch, and talk about how it was going. It was mostly a lot of Wayne going ‘uh-huh’, ‘yeah’, and ‘okay’s. Orlando was weary of Wayne’s lackluster responses. It was believable that it was attributed to how downtrodden Wayne was without Del. He didn’t want to pry and risk Wayne attempting to kick his ass. He didn’t put it past him. Juvie was rough, and if you were trapped in a building with Wayne McCullough, you should be picking a god and praying to it.

By now, it had been a month, and school was going to be over for summer in early June. Orlando told him how much better Del was doing when they got to hang out. He told Wayne about things she did for the student council, and that she got to be student body president. But to balance out the positivity, kind of, was Del’s home life. He told Wayne the Luccetti’s worked in construction, and Bobby had his own crew he was lead foreman for. No wonder they were gone all day. But Wayne was formulating. The next day he went to Del’s house, and Bobby dropped her off and went back to work, he was going to her front door.

He was tired of waiting.

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

By now, mid-May had come. Wayne had a handle on the Luccetti’s schedule. Orlando had accepted that Wayne was a better man - boy - man now. He went on walks to calm down. He ate actual real food that wasn’t snacks, or probably junk food he had along the way. He had looked better. He had maintained Orlando’s grandma’s yard, and helped keep the house clean. He was reformed. At least, to Orlando.

It’s a Friday morning, and Orlando has left for school. Wayne already made a grocery list for the weekend. He did his chores. He even did his laundry without Orlando’s help to use it. When it went off, it sang a little song. Just like the house he stayed in before. He bided his time until school was over. The Luccetti men stayed at work until 7, coming home at 7:30 on Fridays. Because he knew from his friend, they stayed home all weekend and basically never leave except to take Del to work. So he waited. When Orlando came home, they ate lunch. At 3:30, when he knew for sure enough time had passed that her brothers and dad wouldn’t be home, he went to leave.

“I’m going for my walk.”

“It might as well be a goddamn hike.” Orlando snorted, finishing eating the chips on his plate. “I ain’t even asking where you go. But at least you coverin’ up.”

“I just walk. I missed Brockton.” Which wasn’t a lie. But she was the only good thing in this town. Orlando was too, he guesses.

“Yeah. I don’t know if Brockton miss you.”

Wayne got up and threw away his trash, and grabbed his outside garb - dressed up, and grabbed his keys.

“I’ll come home at 6.”

“Cool. We makin’ shrimp scampi today.”

“We’re making what?”

“Shrimp scampi. You’ll see.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Orlando followed suit with his trash and they parted ways - Orlando went upstairs, and Wayne power walked his way to the door.

The rush of adrenaline hit him again, fueling his walk. He felt lightheaded as he walked - his usual 30 minute walk became 15. The fire in his chest ignited, and his blood coursing through his veins was gasoline. He stopped at the house before theirs. No pick-up truck. He walked to the Luccetti - walking up the steps. His heart was racing. He felt like he was out of breath. He lowered his ridiculous hood, shoved his sunglasses in his pocket. He outstretched a hand, and hesitated to knock.

What would she say? How would she react? He had been dreaming of this moment for months. He clutched her necklace in his other hand. It was all he had of her.

He braces himself, and knocks against the wood of the door. The porch of her house looked different. It had a lot of work put in. The paint on the door was no longer peeling, and the flooring on the stairs and porch floor had been redone. A nice patio set replaced the bench-like seating in front of the house.

No answer. He knocks again. He hears yelling.

“Would you fuckin’ wait a second?”

Del.

He stepped back and waited.

He hears footsteps approaching the door, a few locks unlock, a chain be undone, and the door handle turned. The door swung open.

Del Luccetti.

She stared at him, her eyes wide, and she slammed the door shut. The door reopens. And then she slammed it shut again. It stayed shut. Wayne knocked on the door again. Del swung open the door and yanked him inside. He stumbles, tripping over his own feet.

“Wayne!”

She closes the door behind them - and she does all the locks. She turns to look at him, standing in her walkway. He stares at her. Her hair got a little longer, and her neck was bare. He holds out his hand. Under the living room lights, her name glinted in the metal script in the palm of his hand. Her eyes flicker from staring at him, to down at her necklace, then back up at him. She doesn’t say another word before nearly leaping forward to hug him. She wraps her arms around him, holding him tight - as if, if she lets him go, he would disappear into thin air. He smelled like mangoes. She buries her face in the crook of his neck and her eyes immediately fill with tears. She had shed tears for Wayne before many times, over many nights. But now she could cry tears for his return. He held her in return with the same sentiment that like sand in the hourglass, it’d slip through his hands. She didn’t burst into a sob, instead she regained her composure. After a long few seconds, she let go, and ignored the welled up tears in her eyes.

“What the fuck, Wayne? What are you doin’ here?” She asked. He could see her eyes glassy as she spoke to him.

“I got out of juvie.” He answered. “I came to see ya.”

“They let you out?”

He glances at the floor. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Big jail break. So I got out.” He shrugged. “Took the bus to Boston. Now I’m here.”

“When? Like, fuckin’ today?”

“Uh.”

This was the hard part. Wayne didn’t prepare to answer the ‘how long?’ question. Because it has been weeks now. And Orlando didn’t know where he was going at night. Del looked at him expectantly, like he would give an answer like, ‘in the last day’.

“Uh. April.”

“April?!” She snapped. Her face was hardened now. “You been in fuckin’ Brockton since April?! Where the fuck have you been?!”

“Orlando’s.”

The anger on Del’s face grew stiff, and her skin went pale. Oh my God. The dots were connecting as her eyes bore into Wayne’s face, and he nervously stared back.

“Them were no fuckin’ raccoons.” She was going to fucking kill Orlando. “It was you.” The noises, the messes of snack wrappers and so much laundry in his room despite visiting with Orlando literally every week or weekend. Wayne was living there. Jesus fucking Christ. Her face softens, thinking of how long it had been.

“Why did you wait?” She asked quietly.

“I didn’t want your dad to fuckin’ kill you.” He answered. “Well. And really fuckin’ kill me for real this time.” He thinks of Orlando’s words. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

She knows he’s right - because there was no other explanation as to why he would wait so long. But she felt some sort of subliminal embarrassment, wondering if Wayne had seen her while he was hiding away. Her ridiculous work uniform, or about how her dad shouted and yelled at her when they were at Orlando’s house.

“Orlando and I were gonna tell you soon. I couldn’t fuckin’ wait. I wait for your dad and brothers to go. I tried really hard not to go to the school to find you.”

She missed his voice so, so terribly. He looked tired, but that wasn’t abnormal for Wayne. But this kind of tiredness, he was like a fire ready to self extinguish. He held out her necklace again. She takes it, and fumbles to put it on herself.

“Thanks, dummy.” She smiled, the pain in her chest persisting. It ached and pained in his absence, but now the fear that he would be taken from her again. That if Bobby found out, he’d rip up the roots of the Luccetti family wordlessly and leave Brockton. She couldn’t take it.

“What time do they come home?” 7:30. He knows already.

“7:30. I gotta start cookin’ dinner.” Remembering her duties, she’s deflated. There came Wayne’s anger as he followed her into a kitchen like a puppy at her heels. She opens the fridge and pulls out thawed fish, and digs through her cabinet for spices. She returns to the kitchen’s island with salt, pepper, and dill. She gets back into the fridge for a small lemon and butter.

“They make you cook?” Wayne asked. His temper hadn’t changed. That’s for sure.

Del was almost hesitant to answer. Delilah Luccetti was no fuckin’ martyr. She did what she needed to to survive.

“Yeah, but it means I don’t gotta eat takeout garbage all the fuckin’ time.”

Wayne knew to what extent she was fulfilling her duties. Her kitchen and living room looked different. The patches in the walls he had seen were finally sanded down and repainted. The kitchen looked nicer-ish. She turns the oven on to preheat. The furniture mostly stayed the same. But her house was changing. She digs a sheet pan out of a cabinet beside the oven, and some roll of foil out of a drawer. She pulls it and cuts it off along the serrated edge and lays it flat onto the pan.

“You hungry?” She asks. Wayne watchers her movements, almost robotic in nature with how she moved - every step was planned out. She didn’t even need to think. Like she had made this particular meal so many times, it didn’t really require thought.

“Kind of.”

“That’s a yes.”

He wants to ask her about what it’s been like. She cuts open the packaging around the filets of fish with a knife, not bothering with a pair of scissors. She lays out five pieces onto the pan. She leans across the counter to grab a lighter and a candle that sat beside a bowl of fruit. She ignites the wicks and sets it back down, before taking salt and pepper to the filets. It read blueberry cobbler. He doesn’t know what that is. But it smells really nice.

“Orlando told me you work at the pizza shop.”

She wipes the knife from cutting open the fish onto her sleeve, and then starts to slice the lemon into slices. He wanted to ask her what she was making. He wanted to ask her a lot, but maybe this wasn’t the time.

“Yeah. They let you eat like two slices on your lunch break, like it’s a free perk or whatever.” She answered, leaving the slices on the counter before dusting each one with the dill seasoning. “It gets busy.” She talks as though she’s just accepted the way things are. This is her life now. He knows her better than this. She lays two slices on each piece, and cuts small pieces of butter to sit on each piece as well. She opens the oven door and Wayne answers her while she’s turned away. He doesn’t think before he speaks.

“Orlando told me you said they make you work like your ma’.” She slowly closes the oven door and turns to face Wayne.

“I didn’t have a fuckin’ choice, Wayne.” Her warm brown eyes were filled with a violence she had been trying to temper down since he had been gone. “It was this, or I go to a Catholic all girls school in fuckin’ Philadelphia. I chose to stay and do this. Bein’ a fuckin’ maid and mother to Carl, Teddy and my dad.”

He lets her talk.

“If stayin’ in Brockton meant I had to fuckin’ scrub floors, make bullshit meals and doin’ shit all the time, I wanted to do it. I wasn’t gonna fuckin’ leave because I didn’t know how else I was gonna see you again. I didn’t know how long you were gonna be stuck in fuckin’ Florida, wherever the fuck you were, prayin’ you’d get home.”

“I would’a found you.”

“My dad would’a made sure no one could. Not even you.” She rests her hands on the counter, leaning forward. “I just wanted to fuckin’ be here. Right where you left me.”

He looks back at her and watches her face. Studying every little feature in her face now.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“I don’t know that.”

“I do.”

Her jaw gets tight, and they lock eyes. The eye contact is intense - both of their stomachs feeling like they were twisting into knots.

“You don’t know that.”

“Orlando and I got plans.”

“Yeah? Like what? Fuckin’ hidin’ you like a fugitive? You wearin’ disguises forever?”

“No. We’re gonna get jobs. I’ll get a job to make money.”

“You haven’t even graduated school.”

“I’m gonna get my GED. I’m gonna save money to move out. We can get an apartment. Then you and I can live in it.”

Del exhales, sniffling.

“I don’t want you to go away again.”

“I’m not.”

This answer from Wayne came stern, and strong. Unwavering sureness to the truth. They both know this. Wayne would have to be in a body bag to be taken out of Brockton, and to be taken away from Del. He had worked so hard to come home. Nothing, and he means nothing is getting in the way of earning Del back. He’d do what he needed to go. He got through months of juvie. He rode hours on a gross, smelly bus that played movies back to Boston. He did therapy. He had done so much to get here.

“I’m gonna get a job and live with Orlando until we can live together.”

“I think I have to be goin’ to college before my dad lets me move out. Maybe not even then. He’ll have to fuckin’ kick the bucket first.”

“He can’t fuckin’ keep you here forever, Del.”

It’s her turn to look down at the counter.

“He makes me feel like it.”

“You’re not gonna be stuck here forever. You’re gonna be mayor someday. Then you don’t gotta worry about motherin’ your dad and brothers no more.”

25 minutes go by fast while they talk. The clock was inching closer to the time that Carl, Teddy and Bobby would come home. She looks at him and thinks about the moments before they were separated. How fuzzy her head felt, feeling dizzy and sick - calling out for Wayne in her slurred speech trying to force herself to consciousness. How she put the pedal of the golden Trans-Am to the floor, trying to find the nearest hospital. Wayne’s labored breathing beside her. Words falling out of her mouth, trying to utter a phrase she’d never imagined she’d say out loud to another human being.

“Did you mean it?”

He thinks about what she asks him. His face covered in blood, head throbbing and rested against the window. The way his nose hurt from the fractures, feeling the bruising under the skin. He could still feel it now. He could barely feel it in the moment when he had the racing thought he had been thinking and holding back the moment they met.

“I love you, Del.”

“I mean it.”

She felt reassured. Her heart skipped two beats, and they both parted their lips to speak at the same time.

“I love you, Wayne.”

“I love you, Del.”

They hold eye contact a little while longer. The oven dings, and they break it after a few more seconds of the timer beeping in the background. She turns around and takes the food out, and digs in the freezer for two brown rice packets - throwing them into the microwave. She opens a cabinet door beside the oven and takes out five plates and sets them on the counter. She takes two off the stack - one to Wayne, and one for herself. They take their plates and forks, taking a piece of fish each. Del removed the brown rice packets from the microwave and poured each packet onto a plate. They walk into her living room - five steps away - and curl up on her couch beside each other and eat.

Neither one of them really talks while they watch TV. It’s only fitting that The Mummy is playing on the channel now. It was no Encino Man, but they didn’t care. They ate their food - the smell of fish was overwhelmed by the candle burning in the kitchen. Wayne thought about work while they ate. Yeah, he could do demolition. Orlando suggested it. But Wayne thought about his future the way Del did. The way she would change Brockton.

What would Wayne do?

He chews the fish - tender, and the dill with lemon combination was good. The rice was lacking in flavor, but the fish helped. But the fish itself was great. They glance at each other occasionally throughout the movie. Del made him want to do more. He could work at a store somewhere, with a consistent pay he might not get waiting outside of a Lowes or Home Depot. He could ask Orlando about other jobs. He thought about writing. Writing comics, not books. Reading was terrible. He could write, and he and Orlando could draw. Maybe own a comic book store. He didn’t really want a lot out of life. Just him, Del, and their house. Maybe kids.

He looks at Del while she watches Brendan Fraiser fight for his life on the screen. She’d be a good ma’.

He wonders if he’d be a good dad.

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

After the runtime of the movie was up, they washed their plates in the sink and set it in the drying rack. THeir time together was coming to an end.

“You gotta go before they’re home.”

“I know.” Wayne answered, wishing now he could have boots of concrete. He missed her so much, the way she smelled like jasmine. The feeling of her shoulder leaning into his, and her head on his chest.

They stand in the kitchen, neither person wishing to separate. She walks them to the front door and undoes the locks.

“When am I gonna see you again?”

“When you go to Orlando’s. If your dad leaves ya.”

“Yeah. He might. We’ll see.” She chuckles nervously.

“So, this is bye?”

“Yeah. Only for a coupl’a days.” She assures him.

Her eyes looked wet again. She hugs him suddenly, and squeezes him tight. SHe didn’t want to let go. He wraps his arms around her small frame. SOmeday, they wouldn’t have to say goodbye. They’d wake up and sleep next to each other in the same room, in the same bed. She leans back in the hug and cups Wayne’s cheeks. Del leans in, pressing her lips against Wayne’s and it feels like little fireworks go off between them. The electricity that passes from one person to the next is invigorating. They hadn’t exchanged a kiss since the hospital. It’s hungry in a touch starved nature. No, Del didn’t do the romance shit - but she had him back. She would be damned if that was going to change. He kisses her back, clutching her tighter against him. The long kiss gently breaks, only to be replaced by smaller kisses. Both of their hearts beat beat beat against their juvenile rib cages wishing to break free. Body to body contact wasn’t nearly enough. They give each other one last little kiss and rest their foreheads together.

Neither one of them moves and just stands there. Her eyelids flutter open.

“Okay. Now you gotta go.” She whispers, her hands moving down his shoulders to hold onto his forearms. They reluctantly let each other go.

She cracks open the front door and rests tiredly against its frame. He steps through the door and looks back at her.

“I love you, Del.”

“I love you, Wayne.”

She watches him go down her porch steps, and walk away from her house. He glances back at her every once in a while. She watches as his figure disappears in the darkness of Brockton’s night. ONce she can’t see him anymore, she closes her front door. Once it closes completely and she locks it up again - she collapses back against the door. She squeezes her eyes shut and tilts her head back against the wood and looks up towards the ceiling. He had only been gone for barely a few minutes. She exhales shakily and finally lets herself cry.

Happy tears streamed down her face, and a smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

Wayne McCullough was back.

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